


let's save up for something new

by phanatics



Series: kurodai week 2k17 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Florists, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, KuroDai Week, KuroDai Week 2017, M/M, Romantic Fluff, daichi with flowers is good for the soul, i want to be this disgustingly in love one day, it's just 2k of them being in love, kuroo with tattoos be still my beating heart, yes i named their dog after a studio ghibli character dont look at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanatics/pseuds/phanatics
Summary: Sawamura Daichi has two important things in his life; Kuroo Tetsurou, and his garden.(Day 5: fake relationship /domestic)





	let's save up for something new

**Author's Note:**

> ummm no offence but Soft and Pure kurodai is my favourite kind of kurodai bye
> 
> this genuinely has no plot but ive been so exhausted and ill recently i just needed something cute to get my energy back up lol

If there’s one thing that Daichi loves more than anything else in the world, it’s his garden.

Kuroo’s also somewhere at the top of that list, but he thinks it’s a given that Kuroo is his favourite thing.  He _is_ his boyfriend going on eight years, and Daichi supposes that he’s morally obligated to love him.

But his garden. His garden is his and his only; his own personal Eden, a safe haven, a respite from the ups and downs of life.  Something he’s fabricated with the utmost care, spent so many hours of his life toiling over, and he’s come to think of it as a second home.

From the age of ten, Daichi had wanted to do chemistry or mechanics, was adamant that he would live the rest of his life surrounded by equations and chemicals.

At nineteen he’d suffered a complete change of life plan. Biochemical engineering just didn’t seem right for him, and the feeling of overwhelming uncertainty had settled in his chest like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. He doesn’t know what had drawn him to botany; he supposes that it _is_ still a science, but there’s something less artificial about it, and he finds more comfort in the study of life, of flowers and shrubs, than he ever did in automobile parts.

If he’d told his sixteen year old self that he’d be studying botany for three years at one of Tokyo’s most prestigious academically-orientated universities, he would have laughed in his face. But he’s twenty eight and he runs his own flower shop now, and he’s more at peace when he comes home smelling of lavender and pollen than he’s ever been. He cycles to work every morning, he sets his own work hours every week, and his employees are eager and enthusiastic; he knows his business is in good hands when Yachi and Ennoshita are running the shop, and he couldn’t be happier.

He comes home every evening to Tetsurou, who has tattoos running up his arms and piercings in both ears, and he loves the juxtaposition. They take turns cooking dinner, they squabble over what to watch on their beat-up television set in the late evenings, and they slot together just right at the end of the day, lying next to each other in the same bed.

Daichi and Kuroo had grown closer during their university years, having ended up studying at the same place in Tokyo through sheer coincidence, and had slipped into more-than-friends so effortlessly, so easily. When Daichi decided to move back out to Miyagi after he obtained his degree, Kuroo hadn’t even hesitated to follow him. They do adult things now, like the weekly grocery shopping and paying taxes, but there’s a small part of Daichi that will always feel eighteen all over again when Kuroo presses his cheek to the top of his head, drawing insignificant circles over the ridge of his shoulder with the pad of his finger as they sit in easy silence at the end of long, laborious days.

They have a loveable golden retriever called Chihiro, and there are a multitude of different cats which don’t quite belong to them that come meowing at their front porch in the evenings, and he’s sure Tetsurou’s already unofficially named them all. It’s disgustingly domestic, and he loves it.

They live in a fairly small town, tucked in the heart of the Japanese countryside, away from the prying eyes and loud chatter of tourists. They visit Tokyo a few times a year, to see Kuroo’s family, and Daichi asks Kuroo if he ever misses the noise of the city.

Business is good. _Sawamura’s Flowers_ is the only florist in their town, and he receives a combination of regular and new customers alike on most days. And, well, he loves his job.

Kuroo has a knack for being incredibly charming when he wants to, and Daichi’s sales always seem to increase exponentially when he has his boyfriend manning the Saturday market stall on the days that he can’t make it. Occasionally Kuroo will weave flowers through Chihiro’s collar and parade her around town with the smug air of a proud father; with seventy pounds of sunshine at his side, tugging at her leash to sniff at the legs of pedestrians, its great business for the shop, and Daichi often has customers cooing about their dog when he fixes up bouquets for them later.

Sunday is always gardening day.

The garden that stretches out behind their house measures almost an acre; Daichi practically fell to his knees as soon as he saw the detail when they were looking at residences in the area. They hadn’t hesitated to buy it. It had been empty when the two of them had first moved in, almost six years ago now, laden with nothing but cardboard boxes and hopes for the future, hopes for the two of them.

Now it teems with flora, carpets of flowers and shrubbery, red, blue, yellow, white. Winding grass pathways separate the individual flowerbeds, but there’s no order to it; it’s beautifully chaotic. Kuroo complains that Daichi treats his garden with more care and affection than he does his boyfriend and Daichi makes sure to shut him up in a way they both know effortlessly well.

He sells the flowers that he grows in his shop; in the harsh winter months when the ground is cracked and infertile he has to import most of his stock from a big corporation based in Tokyo, but everything that he sells in the spring and the summer comes completely from his own garden. They don’t have guests round often, but when they get visits from old friends and family, Daichi’s hard work never ceases to amaze.

It’s a sunny Sunday in early May, and Daichi is already working hard as usual, on his knees in the soil as he cuts purple foxgloves from their roots, ready to take into the shop tomorrow. Kuroo is sitting beside him and picking at his cuticles, humming under his breath as Daichi rifles through the flowerbeds; he knows that Kuroo tries his best to keep up with him when he’s rambling on about soil acidity and bloom periods, but eventually his eyes gain a glazed over quality and Daichi is forced to relinquish, so they sit in easy silence. Kuroo keeps sporadically making snarky comments about his co-workers, about the new neighbours, about the orchids nearby that look like dicks.

Daichi rolls his eyes at that last one and flicks dirt at Kuroo; his boyfriend shrieks like he’s been burned, scrambling away on his hands. Unfortunately, he backpedals right into another flower bed, and it takes Daichi a long time to stop laughing at the look on Kuroo’s face as he feels both hands sink straight into a pile of compost. He slinks inside not long after, sulking. Daichi lets him leave. He knows Kuroo well enough to know he’ll be back soon enough.

The sun traverses the sky and Daichi works steadily, tirelessly. Kuroo brings him a bowl of food when it’s clear that he’s completely forgotten to have lunch and Daichi eats quickly, with dirt under his fingernails, before he launches straight back into his tasks.

It’s late afternoon when Daichi gets round to planting his last batch of seeds; delphiniums, one of the most popular plants that they have for sale in the late summer, and also one of Kuroo’s favourite flowers. He makes sure to plant a separate patch, a few seeds that will grow into the flowers he keeps just for them, keeps to put on their kitchen windowsill. His back aches from being bent over all day but he’s satisfied with what he’s achieved; he makes a mental note to tell Yachi that the crocuses have bloomed early this year, and that she can start designing the new bouquets for the season.

Kuroo has finished sulking now and he's returned to the garden, chattering to Daichi’s back and lazily pointing out the names of the flowers he recognizes as Daichi plants the delphinium seeds, packing them in the damp earth with the utmost care. Daichi glances back at his boyfriend, languidly stretched out on the grassy pathway, soaking up the sun like an oversized cat and fiddling with his fingers as he gazes up at the cloudless sky. Daichi takes off his dirt-caked gloves, leans over, and kisses him; chaste. Familiar.

Kuroo laughs, asks him what that was for. Daichi shrugs, nonchalant, and tells him he’s happy. Kuroo softens, and leans up to kiss him again.

The delphinium seeds go forgotten for a long time.

Daichi eventually gets round to finishing what he started when the sun is brushing the tops of the mountains in the distance and the sunset is orange, bright orange, leaking across the expanse of blue sky like a paint spill. He plants the last of the seeds, gathers up all of the prepared flowers and sets them inside to remember to take them into work tomorrow.

He finally pulls out the hose and sets off down the grassy pathways, watering everything he can get his hands on. Kuroo trails after him, shiftily, shirt rumpled; a reminder that his gardening isn’t the only thing he started that he still has to finish.

He presses his finger against the end of the hose, narrowing the spray of water. He points the end upwards, the spray catching the light and scattering, rainbow. Kuroo shoves his hand into the middle of the mist and swears viciously when he realizes that it’s cold; Daichi aims the hose at him for good measure, and Kuroo flails under the cold water, squawking for mercy. Daichi doesn’t stop until the hose is wrenched from his hands and Kuroo turns it on him, and he receives a face full of freezing water. He screeches indignantly and tries to duck away but Kuroo tackles him, shoving the end of the hose down his shirt and sitting on the backs of his legs, laughing maniacally. Daichi squirms and begs for him to get off but Kuroo is merciless and presses down with his whole body, grinning against the back of his neck.

Kuroo only concedes when Daichi flips their positions, wrestling him into the waterlogged earth with a sadistic smile on his face. Daichi throws the hose far off, out of both of their reaches, and he knows that he should turn off the water, but he just collapses onto Kuroo’s chest, breathily heavily. It’s been a while since his volleyball days, and he has to admit that he’s lost his edge.

They’re probably both rubbing mud into their clothes, and they’re absolutely soaking, and Kuroo is smiling up at Daichi like he’s discovered gold. He wants to stay there forever, in their own little eternity, with nothing to worry about but themselves, but instead he nudges Kuroo and stands up, dragging his boyfriend to his feet as said boyfriend groans dramatically. He shoos him towards the house, turning off the hose as they pass, and forces him to take a shower, because the temperature had dropped along with the sun and they’re both shivering a little. Kuroo tells Daichi that they should shower together, to make up for the water they just wasted, and, well. He can’t argue with that.

Later, night has properly fallen and they’re sat on their back porch, looking up at the stars that they can see through the awning above their heads. Forget-me-nots bloom in the gaps between the porch railings. Daisies wave in the light breeze in the plant pots on the wooden deck and carnations spill around their legs, vibrant and flourishing. The carnations always remind him of his and Tetsurou’s third date, where a sad little bouquet of the same flowers had ended up trampled and tattered and covered in motor oil. It’s a long and ridiculous story, and one that Daichi loves to share with anyone who will listen. Chihiro lies beside them on the deck, tail thumping against the wood like the steady beat of a metronome. Kuroo’s left hand is tangled in her golden fur, scratching idly, as the other sits in Daichi’s lap, fingers entwined. Daichi runs his thumb against the back of Kuroo’s hand, again and again, in time with the steady rhythm of Chihiro’s wagging tail as he breathes, slow and deep.

It’s been a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> y’all if you’ve never listened to [‘novels’ by rusty clanton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LJx3b4iVJQ) please i beg that you do it’s the most gorgeous song and it both breaks my heart and restores it at the same time its so sweet and lovely and its definitely what I was listening to when I was writing this and I definitely cried because im just an emotional wreck honestly
> 
> also i spent approx 20 minutes looking at “golden retriever with flowers” in google images and yes it was totally worth it & i’d like to share [this](http://www.patchofearth.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Morgan-in-lavender-by-Franco-Vannini-Flickr.jpg), [this](http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/21/2143/NXQED00Z/posters/lynn-m-stone-golden-retriever-amongst-meadow-flowers-usa.jpg) and especially [this](https://68.media.tumblr.com/63f595a5b3b00c634063849373909633/tumblr_np18msYEDv1r08e1lo2_1280.jpg)


End file.
